


Faithful

by muirgen_lys



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Gen, I think I successfully wrote fluff, M/M, Post-DAII, how did that happen?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 01:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10348968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muirgen_lys/pseuds/muirgen_lys
Summary: "Alright," said Anders. "I understand why the dog isn't being eaten by beggar brats. Now what is it doingin the house?"In which Fenris gets a dog. Anders does not like dogs. He is not, under any circumstances getting a dog. Except here it is, already in the house, and Fenris seems blighted attached to it...





	

**Author's Note:**

> from this kmeme prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15999.html?thread=62079359#t62079359

Antiva was lovely in the spring.

Anders let the noise of the street wash over him as he made his way back to the small house, pushing the door open with his shoulder.

“I'm home,” he called belatedly, as the door slammed shut behind him.

He was expecting the echoing silence inside the house. Fenris had never really broken the habit of existing quietly – to placate his master, or avoid his pursuers, or surprise his enemies, the result was the same. He moved like a cat, silent even in his own home, and without seeing him Anders never knew whether he was home or not.

Unexpectedly however, the silence was broken - rapid galloping steps, and the skitter of claws on stone emerged from the main room, and following behind them, Fenris' deep baritone, sounding rather aggrieved, with the words “No, _heel_.”

He stepped forward, his curiosity getting the better of him, only to see a half-grown Mabari hound, its head level with his knees, come charging through the doorway.

Anders jerked back reflexively, and his armful of groceries hit the floor with a series of dull thumps, scattering in all directions. He skittered away from the onrushing beast, a bunch of grapes squishing under his left foot as he retreated. and kept moving until his back hit the wall, grasping clumsily for his staff. Anders' hastily flung spell took effect at the last second as the Mabari surged forward, freezing it in mid-leap less than five feet from him.

He slumped and eyed the dog malevolently, belatedly aware that his heart seemed to be trying to hammer its way out of his chest.

Fenris appeared in the doorway. His eyes lighted on the dog and his scowl deepened. “Listen you over-excitable creature-” he began, stepping forward to seize its collar, then stopped as the grocery-covered floor registered. He looked up to meet Anders' eyes, managing to look simultaneously annoyed, and uncharacteristically sheepish.

“Ah,” he said. Then, “I was not expecting you back so soon.”

Anders glared. He waved his hand in a vague gesture encompassing the entire room – the dog, the groceries, the glyph under the dog's feet – and raised his eyebrows in silent demand.

Fenris coughed, suddenly avoiding Anders' eyes. “I...yes,” he said. “I can explain.”

~*~

He'd been looking for fruit. There was a stall by the south gate that sold apples, the good ones, crisp and not too sweet. He'd been sorting through the selection, enjoying the comfortable warmth of the day and the unyielding solidity of the fruit, thinking of little else besides the anticipation of the tart flavour and the satisfying crunch between his teeth.

It was the stall proprietor who drew his attention to them. Two gutter rats, both elves, perhaps twelve years old, huddled at the side at the side of the road, pointing and arguing about something he couldn't see. The fruit-seller's distaste for them was obvious - and the sour-voiced comment about "knife-eared thieves" rather indelicate, considering to whom he was speaking. Fenris bristled, but restrained his temper. Threatening the proprietor would get him banned from the stall and do less than nothing to reduce the number of skinny elven children haunting the corners and alleyways of the city. “ _What are they looking at?_ ” he asked, in Antivan. He could get by well enough in the language now, though he still had a distinct accent - an odd blend of Tevinter and Marcher tones that natives struggled to place.

“ _Stupid brats have been trying to catch that dog all morning,_ ” the fruit-seller replied.

“ _What for?_ ”

“ _Meat. What else?_ ”

Apples bought and packed away, Fenris wandered in the children's direction, outwardly ignoring them. They took no notice of him, too focused on their prize – a medium-sized dog standing guard over a dead man.

“ _Just keep it distracted long enough for me to get a grip on it,_ ” The smaller one urged. “ _There's enough meat on that thing for both of us to eat for days._ ”

“ _You keep losing it,_ ” the other retorted, “ _and when you drop it I get savaged. We need both of us to hold it._ ”

“ _Hold it where idiot? You going to pick it up by its ears? You can't get the front legs without it biting. I know, I tried._ ”

The dog was a dark, muddy brown in the dimness of the alley, faintly brindled when its pacing took it into the sunlight. It was narrow and compact, lean muscle and tense, contained energy, with a deep chest and a square head. Its paws were a several sizes too big for its height, and there was a stubborn, angry set to its cocked head. It reminded him of-

...of Hawke's mabari. Fenris' eyes narrowed.

It was possible. No, now that he had recognised it, it was undeniable. It was rare to see such animals outside Ferelden, but the blight had made it less so. Fereldan blight-refugees had scattered in all directions, bringing their prize dogs with them.

This one was still coming into its full growth, somewhere between an oversized puppy and the massive hound hinted at by it's heavy paws and broad canine grin. It watched the two children warily, keeping its solid body between them and the dead man in the alley. Every few seconds it cast a worried glance back over its shoulder, checking on the body. Fenris' stomach clenched at the sight. Young and heartrendingly anxious...the mabari didn't understand that it's partner was dead.

~*~

“I ran the children off,” said Fenris. “I was not going to let them eat him.”

“Paid them off more likely,” muttered Anders irritably. He knew Fenris' compassion, and normally he loved him for it, but he had a nasty suspicion that same generous impulse was responsible for there being an unexpected dog in his house, and that rather shadowed his appreciation for it. “That explains why the dog isn't being eaten by beggar brats,” he went on. “What is it doing _in the house?_ ”

“I explained to it that its master was dead,” said Fenris. “I told it to go home. It simply turned around and curled up beside the body. It was alone, Anders. Nowhere to go.”

Anders glared. Fenris was playing it up, face mournful, looking at him imploringly with huge puppy eyes. (Which really were disgustingly cute. But Anders was immune, damn it, he'd had years of exposure. He had to have built up some sort of tolerance, right?)

“We can't have a dog, Fenris,” he said. He'd tried to make his voice firm and unyielding. Going by the glint of triumph in Fenris' eye, it hadn't worked.

“I see no reason why not,” said Fenris, eminently reasonable. Damn him.

“I see plenty of reasons!”

“You are always saying you want a pet,” Fenris pointed out. “I do not recall you complaining about that absurdly-named animal you had in the Wardens. Nor the beasts you fed outside your clinic.”

“Those were _cats_ ,” Anders snapped. “I want a _cat_ , Fenris. Cats are civilised. They kill rodents and they keep you company, and they keep themselves clean and bury their own shits. Dogs are loud, and pushy, and need constant cleaning up after. Look at that mess by the door!”

“ _He_ was not the one who threw groceries everywhere,” said Fenris pointedly.

“It nearly bowled me over! It's bigger than I am!”

“You are being ridiculous. He's barely a fifth of your height.”

“It's barely a puppy. Wait until it's full-grown. It'll eat more than both of us put together, and need more space too. It's already a menace in this place at half-size; at its full height it'll weigh more than you do. You can hardly control it now.”

There came a dull thunk from upstairs, as of a solidly-built dog hitting a hard surface. Anders silently thanked the stupid beast for emphasizing his point. Then scowled at his own foolishness: he and the dog were not on the same side in this.

“He's young,” said Fenris defensively. “He can learn. We are not so close to starving that we cannot afford to feed one dog. He can go with you to the market or to your clinic, or come with me on jobs. He will not be stuck here all the time.”

There was another thunk from upstairs.

“That _thing_ is not coming to my clinic.”

“The children would love him,” said Fenris with equanimity. “They might actually keep still long enough for you to heal them without having to hold them down and bribe them with sweets.”

Anders huffed “He's just as likely to be the reason they _need_ healing.” But he said it with less conviction. He'd seen healers use dogs to keep children distracted while they recovered, actually. He'd never gone near the beasts himself - they made him anxious – but...it had seemed to help.

There was another thud from upstairs, and then the characteristic creak of a door opening, and a sound like an avalanche coming down the stairs, and Anders shoved his chair back sharply as a blocky canine head wearing a broad doggy grin poked its way into the room.

“I thought we shut it in the bedroom,” said Anders plaintively. And if there was a touch of real anxiety in his voice, well, he trusted Fenris to pretend not to notice. “I thought it was _contained_.”

The warrior coughed. “Apparently he can open doors.”

“Wonderful,” said Anders, sounding mournful. “Fenris get your blighted wolf under control.”

Fenris crouched in front of the dog, smiling fondly. “Clever boy,” he said softly. The dog tipped it's head, demanding scritches, and Fenris obliged, smile widening. Anders felt a small smile tugging at his own mouth, and firmly squelched it.

He was not getting a dog. Even if it did turn his taciturn husband into a giddy teenager.

The dog gave a happy bark and raced out of the room, only to re-appear a moment later with one of Fenris' leather pauldrons clamped in it's jaws.

“urghff!” the bark was muffled, but obviously excited. Anders raised an eyebrow.

Fenris scowled. “Listen you stupid mutt-” he began, then broke off with a glance at Anders. “That isn't yours,” he began again, turning his attention back to the dog. He grabbed the pauldron and attempted to remove it. The dog twisted sideways and danced back a few steps, giving another happy bark. Fenris glanced back at Anders. “This is a minor problem,” he said. “It will learn better.”

“No doubt,” said Anders. The dog gave another muffled “ghrff!”

Fenris grabbed the pauldron with both hands and pulled. The dog bit down and pulled back. After about another minute of stalemate, Fenris was cursing in three languages, and Anders was trying to contain his laughter. Fenris' glare only made him chuckle harder.

“You could help,” said Fenris.

“Me?” asked Anders. “I'm the one who's not getting a dog, remember.”

Fenris glared harder. “This does not mean we are getting rid of him,” he said. “He and I are having a small disagreement.”

“Right,” said Anders. “You know the tooth-marks are never coming out of that thing.”

Fenris glanced ruefully at the sodden, tooth-marked pauldron. “They...are mostly decorative anyway,” he said. “It's not that important.”

Perhaps the determination in his voice softened something in Anders. He was still not getting a dog. He was a cat person. He did not _like_ dogs.

But...

“You really want him, don't you?”

Fenris looked away. “I...perhaps it is foolish.”

“But you want him. It matters to you.”

The elf nodded. “I have never dealt much with dogs, besides Hawke's. But...I would not mind...changing that. And I find him charming. For all his faults.”

Which was a hard sentiment to argue with, since Anders was pretty sure it was how Fenris felt about him. Damn it.

“He cannot be expected to know how to behave yet,” said Fenris. “He lived on the street. That beggar was all he had, and he lost him. I would not like to put him back out on the street, alone.”

Anders frowned. He was not getting a dog. He _wasn't_.

But if he'd thought Fenris bringing the puppy eyes was hard to resist, it had nothing on Fenris' sincere compassion.

Damn it.

“Fine,” he said. “The dog stays. Tonight at least. I make no promises for the future but...I won't demand that you throw him out into the night.”

He didn't _like_ dogs. But it was worth it to see that shy, pleased smile creeping across Fenris' face.

~*~

Twilight was shading towards evening outside, and between the fire in the corner and the meal they'd just eaten, the house smelled of woodsmoke and spiced pork. They sat in the quiet of the main room, the evening having brought a sense of peaceful routine after the eventufulness of the day.

“I'm not all that fond of dogs,” Anders said thoughtfully. He sat curled up on a cushioned chair, gazing idly at the Mabari. It lay on a rug in front of the fire, its blocky head rested on crossed front paws, eyes peacefully closed. “Hunted by them one too many times, I think. They never hurt me – very well trained beasts in truth - but still, I see them coming towards me and I can't help feeling like I'm about to be handcuffed and beaten unconscious.”

“We do not have to keep him,” said Fenris. He hovered next to him, watching the dog. Anxiety coloured the elf's voice at the thought of losing his new pet, but there was no hesitation in his words.

“Oh, we're keeping him,” said Anders. “Watching you argue with a dog is the funniest thing I've seen all week. And besides, if- if it's _our_ dog, or even just yours, then...”

“You have nothing to fear from him,” said Fenris softly. “My word on it.”

Anders smirked, mischief lighting in his eyes. “You know you're not exactly known for keeping your word, love.”

Fenris did not smile in return, but there was humour in his voice. “To slavers and magisters, no. To you, always.”

“Always,” agreed Anders, and pulled him down onto the chair. He tucked his head into Fenris' shoulder and looked back at the dog. “It was never the dogs that were the problem,” he said softly. “It was the Templars, and the Chantry. The hounds were just doing their job.”

“Just so,” said Fenris. “A Mabari bonded to a slave catcher is dangerous, but only because its master commands it to be.”

Anders pulled Fenris closer, thinking of a long wine-filled night of broken confessions, the story of Fenris' escape. Compassion for those who had been made dangerous by the commands of others was hard-won, for Fenris. The warrior still struggled some days to extend it to himself.

“He does have a beautiful coat,” Anders admitted. “Look how it catches the firelight; almost stripey. And you know there's something very feline about his mannerisms. Look at him, basking by the fire, ignoring us completely.”

Fenris snorted. “You know you do not have to find something cat-like about every animal you decide to be fond of,” he said.

“I don't _have_ to,” said Anders. “But in this case it's obvious.”

Fenris chuckled. “Very well,” he said.

“You know,” said Anders, smile widening, “if we keep him, that means I get to name him!”

“You do not,” said Fenris repressively. “His name is Fidelis.”

“Faithful,” Anders translated. “What kind of name is that?”

“An accurate one. You are not naming him Master Fluffyclaws or some such nonsense.”

“Fine,” Anders huffed, shifting in the chair until they were both seated comfortably next to each other, twined in each others' arms. “Your dog, your name. See if I care.”

“Fool mage,” murmured Fenris softly. They sat that way a long time, watching the fire burn low.


End file.
